Valerie Contrino worked for AON Insurance in the World Trade Center's South Tower. Here is her experience as she tries to get away from the World Trade Center and back home on Sept. 11.

Valerie Contrino

Family photo

Awake at 7 a.m. — no rush to get in. Shower as usual and apply makeup. During my last look in the mirror, I have an unsettling feeling that something bad will happen to my baby boys. When I leave the house I notice it's 7:36 a.m. (the MTA just changed bus schedules, so I was monitoring the time I left each day). As I walk towards Richmond Avenue, I can see that I just missed a 10X. "Oh well, better luck tomorrow," I think to myself. None of my bus buddies on my stop. "Oh boy, how lucky, here comes another 10X!"

Board bus as usual and traffic is a little thicker than normal. No rush really. Just got to get in, have breakfast and use the restroom before going to the Bridge class on 92. Remember going through the tunnel and checking my watch — I'll probably get in around 9:05 am, given the walk to 2 World Trade Center. Come to a dead halt at the foot of the tunnel. "Oh my God!" shouts a young woman, "a small plane just hit the World Trade Center." Ducking down to look out the window I think to myself, thank God it isn't building two (how selfish of me). Clamor and commotion. People screaming. People telling them to calm down, that we're safe where we are. Everyone calms down.

Waiting and then a loud explosion. I think it's a gas explosion (how naïve). Now everyone's screaming and yelling to get off the bus. I decide to get out as there is debris all over and I can see folks on other buses pushing out windows and jumping out of these other buses. Walk short distance to West Street and see a lady I ride bus with who is hysterical that her boss is in 1 WTC and she can't reach him by cell phone. I hug her and tell her not to look, to walk with me but she's not hearing me. Another young person asks me what she should do, that she works in the World Financial Center. I tell her to walk with me to safety, away from the WTC.

As I'm walking I hear cops saying that they're searching for bombs and my heart skips a beat! I ask someone if I could pay them to make a cell phone call but you can't call out—lines are dead. Now it's sheer terror knowing I can't call my family. I stop to cry. People comfort me. I tell them I work at WTC and that the people I work with are probably stuck inside. Continue to walk towards Battery Park and ferry — mass exodus. Mass confusion. Proverbial parking lot of cars, buses, etc. People are walking, crying, running.

Get to ferry and find regular telephone lines. Throngs of people waiting to call home. I wait inside terminal but see Joe Cascio who is crying. I leave line to comfort Joe who's outside, losing my turn for the phone.

No ferries are running—they're checking for bombs on the Staten Island side (later find out that ferry enroute to Manhattan turned around midway). See Joe who's frantic that his staff went ahead to 2 WTC for a meeting. He stayed behind to gather documents for the meeting. I lose Joe now. Go back on phone line, which is now longer than ever! More people coming into ferry terminal. I finally call home and am able to tell Anthony "I'm okay" and we're both hysterical. I tell him I'm afraid to get onto ferry — that I might stay in Battery Park. I tell him I'll call again when I can.

Go outside — can't breathe. Stand with some ladies and see Rosalie Volpe who was in building but made it out alive — I'm excited to know others got out, too — there is hope!

Rumbling earth, loud noise—here comes doom. Clouds of smoke, blackness. I panic. I feel someone turn me around—there's the ferry. I walk on in silence with so many others. Can't breathe now — cover face with paper towel— have no idea where it came from. Panicking I won't make it on the ferry. Pandemonium outside —people yelling and screaming. Remember seeing a crowd on the pier before wave of darkness. Board ferry —looking for life jacket. Remember deciding to stay on perimeter of boat so if I have to jump to get off, I'll swim. People yelling to close windows, smoke and dust. Take out sweater jacket and cover face. Horn blows — are we moving? Praying, holding cross and thanking God. Act of contrition. Man screams people are jumping into river. Throwing out life jackets to them. Someone calls Coast Guard. See Pam Ridgeway sitting inside. Planes overhead — scared they're coming to get us. Reassurance from captain that we have a helicopter escort. I remember thinking how ridiculous that sounds. "How's a helicopter going to take care of us!" Someone young screams the planes are our fighter jets. My God, this is insane!

Turn to look—see Lady Liberty and take a deep breath—I feel we'll be okay but not 100% sure. Captain asks us to be patient — that we're going to be okay and will be in Staten Island shortly. A woman is asthmatic and is having trouble breathing. Grown men crying and trembling.

Get off boat. Too much nervous energy to get on bus. Know I have to call home. No cell phones working. See Kimberly and reassure here — she's crying because she doesn't know if her brother is safe. Offer for her to walk with me but she doesn't. Walk across Bay Street. There's a young man in jeans and a worn T-shirt who is shoeless. He asks the policeman for help. The man says he is touring New York and has left the Marriott World Trade Center — has no money, no shoes. Why don't I offer him to come with me? Fear? I'm safe in Staten Island.

Walk along Bay Street before finally finding a phone—have to wait for others. Finally calls home and say they'll pick me up at ferry. I tell them not to, that there's too much commotion. I'll walk along Victory Boulevard and meet up with them along the way. Not walking alone — there are many others. People are huddled around cars with radios and the news. Walking up hills — have an enormous amount of energy. The sun is shining but why do I feel darkness? I see Ron Lapere — he is crying. We hug and walk together in silence. He is waiting for his ride, too. Walk up more hills. Finally at the top see my husband who's in the car with my cousin. Get in and break down. Glad to be home and safe, but are we truly safe? Come home to family. Phone is constantly ringing —people in and out. Will never forget. Cannot even think of people at the World Trade Center. That will come in the days ahead.